


Wait For Them Here In My Arms (As I Shake)

by joidianne4eva



Series: Seven Devils [2]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Depression, M/M, Mentions of Child Molestation, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-01
Updated: 2014-08-01
Packaged: 2018-02-11 07:54:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2060112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joidianne4eva/pseuds/joidianne4eva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reaching out Ian tangled their fingers together. “I don’t know how to fix this,” </p><p>It was a simple admission…the truth written in words that were too raw to be sugar coated but Ian knew that Mickey got it because Mickey always got it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wait For Them Here In My Arms (As I Shake)

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta'd because I really wanted to get it posted before I changed my mind.

When Ian woke up the first thing he noticed was that Mickey was still in bed. He’d almost missed that because Mickey was curled in on himself, barely clinging to the edge of the mattress. Mickey hadn’t slept like that since the time Ian had told everyone to stop touching him. Seeing it now made Ian’s head hurt because he’d pushed Mickey to this point but he’d promised the Mickey that he’d fix things and that was exactly what he was going to do.

Ian didn’t bother to try and wake Mickey up because his lover could sleep through a fucking earthquake if he wanted to. Instead he crawled closer to Mickey’s side of the bed and pulled at the smaller man’s arm, being careful to avoid the still fresh wounds, until Mickey rolled onto his back. A tiny frown creased Mickey’s forehead but he didn’t wake and Ian smiled when Mickey’s free hand curled in his hair, a habit that would usually mean that Ian was starting to piss him off.

Staring down at Mickey, Ian could see all the things that he’d missed.

Mickey was thinner now, there were places where Ian could clearly see Mickey’s ribs pressing against his skin and while none of the Milkovich kids had ever been healthy, they’d never been starving either.

Ian pressed his fingers to the skin of Mickey’s stomach, keeping the touch light as he let his hand rise and fall with Mickey’s breaths.

Mickey used to eat with him to make sure that Ian had something but now he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Mickey eat anything, unless beer counted as eating.

Leaning down, Ian pressed a kiss to the soft skin just above the waist of Mickey’s boxers even as his fingers crept to Mickey’s hips. He could feel the bones here too and Ian had to grit his teeth to stop the tears that blurred his vision for a moment.

As he trailed his hands upwards over Mickey’s ribs, Ian followed the path mapped out with his lips. Pausing at every blemish or scar and he could name all of them in his head.

The time when Mickey and Tony had almost killed each other at school was carved into his side, a jagged gash where Tony’s blade had sliced.

Mickey’s first run with Terry was present in the raised burn marks where the bastard had pressed his cigarettes because Mickey hadn’t wanted to hit the woman whose husband had owed Terry money.

There were new scars now though; the two bullet wounds that Mickey had got because of Ian were still hidden beneath his boxers and the loose sweatpants he wore as pyjamas. But the others were ones that Ian couldn’t name and he lingered on those the longest, pressing kiss after kiss against them because Mickey didn’t deserve this, he was worth so much more than these scars and Ian wanted him to know that.

When Ian paused at a pink scar just beneath Mickey’s ribs, Mickey sighed but Ian didn’t glance up until one of Mickey’s hands found his hair and tugged, urging him upwards.

Mickey was watching him from beneath hooded eyes but there wasn’t a hint of sleep in his gaze and Ian wondered when Mickey had woken up.

“What’re you doin’?” Mickey asked, his voice husky with disuse and Ian shrugged because how did he put into words the fact that he felt like he’d failed Mickey without sending the smaller man into a rage?

“You got some sort of scar kink, Firecrotch?” Mickey teased, his grin dimming when Ian shook his head.

Reaching out Ian tangled their fingers together. “I don’t know how to fix this,”

It was a simple admission…the truth written in words that were too raw to be sugar coated but Ian knew that Mickey got it because Mickey _always_ got it.

Mickey’s fingers tightened around his and Ian ducked down so that he could press a kiss to the side of Mickey’s mouth.

“You keep looking after me and Mandy, you’re the one who’s holding us together and I don’t know how the fuck to fix this, Mickey because if you have to do this…” Ian paused to gesture at Mickey’s wrist. “…to feel better then it’s my fucking fault.”

Mickey snorted even as he tugged Ian closer. “You think I wasn’t fucked up in the head before you met me, Gallagher?” he demanded. “Do you not see where we live? I was born fucked up. I’m just better at hiding shit than you are.”

Ian shook his head but Mickey was still talking and Ian let him because Mickey needed to get this off his chest.

“All that shit with Svetlana, it wasn’t even the worse thing Terry’s ever done and that was before I knew that blood don’t mean shit in this fucking house,” Mickey whispered, “My ma got out. Bitch chose a fucked up way to do it but she got out and that was good for her but me and Mandy? We looked too much like her, sounded too much like her…” Mickey trailed off with a bitter laugh. “Can’t even believe that after all the shit we’ve been through Mandy let that fuckhead put his hands on her and the worst bit is she didn’t even fucking tell me. She didn’t tell me that Terry had touched her because she knew that I would’ve put a bullet in his head in a fucking second because she’s worth something, she wasn’t like me. Then there was you…”

Ian didn’t want to hear this, he really didn’t.

“People say all this shit about falling in love but they don’t tell you that it hurts like a motherfucker,” Mickey admitted. “Going to that club was worse than living in this house with Terry’s Russian whore but I did that shit, I did it because of you, nobody else. So don’t tell me that I’m not fucked in the head because if you do, you don’t know shit about me.”

It didn’t even matter that Ian was crying now because Mickey wasn’t looking at him with anger or disgust, Mickey just looked _lost_ and that was the worst part. “Tell me what to do to make it better. I swear to God I’ll do it, Mickey.”

Mickey’s smile was a small, broken thing that wrenched at Ian’s heart. “Just stay right here, alright? I’m sick of people fucking off and leaving me alone.”

Ian couldn’t do a damn thing but kiss Mickey after that, pressing his promises to Mickey’s lips as they curled around each other.

Ian didn’t give a fuck about what anyone thought of their relationship because they didn’t know Mickey like he did…didn’t love Mickey like he did and if Mickey needed him to stay then that was exactly what Ian was going to do.

 

 


End file.
